When I looked at the moon, as a young girl, I never saw the man. Instead, a baby – curled in her mother’s womb.
The miracle of life, unfolding and expanding. From a fleck of dust to a recognizable child – in just a few weeks’ time.
And baby grows.
And through the pain of a mother, a child is born. Sometimes to love. Sometimes to crisis. Sometimes to unwant.
Then, the not-yet-mother – she whose arms do not know new life. But, oh! Her heart – how it knows, longs, loves her child.
As she watches, waits, prays,
Where is this child of mine, Lord?
Inside? Waiting for the right combination from her mother and father?
Outside? Waiting for the rescue of his family?
In another? Yet to be born from a woman who wants better for this child?
These verses. I sung them to a melody. As I waited to be a mother, these words – burned into song:
Yet, I am confident that I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord. Psalm 27:13-14
Trust Him, my sister. New life you will know.
He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the LORD! Psalm 113:9
*Black & White photo courtesy of Rowell Photography http://rowellphoto.com